


Plethora of Dildos

by NerdyMind



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, Bondage, Dildos, Frottage, M/M, Military Kink, Plugs, Restraints, Rimming, Sexual Experimentation, Toys, Vibrators, copious amounts of lube and batteries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyMind/pseuds/NerdyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Worried about the longevity of their sex life, Sherlock decides to experiment with various toys.</p><p><a href="http://johnstached.tumblr.com/">Bea</a> and <a href="http://rutobuka2.tumblr.com/">Ruto</a> are both guilty parties behind this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

John stands in the sitting room, open flannel robe flapping about precariously as he towels his hair dry. Underneath he is damp from a steamy shower and wearing the red y-fronts that make Sherlock’s face blush the same shade.

“Oh good you got my text,” Sherlock speaks from the entryway. John spins, robe slipping down one shoulder as he drapes the towel about his neck and smiles. His boyfriend is juggling four- no five- large shopping bags. Black waxed paper with pink tissue peeking out and a curious apple logo. John swears he has seen the design before but a sloshing in his inner ear derails the thought.

“Do I want to know why your experiment required me to shower?” John asks, hopping about on one foot to dislodge water from his ear.

Sherlock strides to the sofa, dropping the bags and returning to the doorway to remove his coat and scarf before answering. John notes that the detective has discontinued eye contact. Never a good sign. “I spoke with Molly this morning and though I block most of her incessant ramblings, I caught snippets of why her relationship with Tom ended.”

“And this has to do with your shopping trip how?”

“She told me once... they used to have quite a lot of sex.” Sherlock blushes at the mere mention. It is not sex itself which alarms him, but the genius is hardwired to construct scenarios from the tiniest fraction of information and he dislikes imagining others in the act. Lacking the ability to shut his mind off, it’s best he hears as little detail as possible.

“Ah.” John realizes where this conversation is headed. He crosses the room to his lover, slipping arms about the taller man’s waist to pull Sherlock taut against his bare chest for a reassuring hug. “So the sex got boring then. And you’re worried that the same will happen to us?”

Sherlock sighs and leans into the welcome warmth, nuzzling into John’s hair. Breathing in his soaps and hair products. “I don’t want to lose you, John. The mere thought it… it terrifies me.”

Suddenly the apple logo clicks and John huffs a small laugh into Sherlock’s chest. “Ah.. ForbiddenFruit. I wasn’t aware they had a brick and mortar location.” He’d ordered a small gift from the sex shop’s website last month. After a blackmail case involving light bondage piqued the detective’s interests, John bought a set of thin leather restraints for Sherlock. But then the workload for both of them was too hectic and the cuffs now lie forgotten in John’s nightstand drawer after only one use.

“Yes, John. I found a location in Soho and did some.. shopping.” Sherlock steps back from John’s embrace and moves to his bags. “I purchased a variety of... toys. The experiment, if you are willing, is to find at least one each of us likes best. I am going to shower so please take the time to sort through them and choose where you would like to start.” Sherlock is jittery, suddenly feeling nervous and shy. He runs to the bathroom without another word.

John flushes, dumbfounded and grinning as he watches his adorable giraffe of a boyfriend transition between shades of pink and dash off. Moments later he is pawing through the bags like it’s Christmas morning. In the first, John finds a gluttonous variety of lubricants. Some unscented, some flavored, and some which promise added heat and tingling stimulation. In the next bag there is a smaller Tesco bag of batteries in every size and power level. _He’s nothing if not thorough_ John muses as he pushes the bag aside to pull out the box beneath.

“Monster Do--whoa,” John sucks in a gasp as the length and heft of the box sinks in. Beneath the cellophane panel he can see vividly detailed veins in the fleshy latex. He turns the case over, reading snippets from the back panel. Sinking back to sit on the table’s edge, John holds the box in his lap. His mind floods with visions of working Sherlock open, wide enough to take all of.. oh god. His cock is flooded with heat at the imagery playing across his mind. John sighs as a shudder ripples through his frame and he whispers, “Oh god, Sherlock…”

“Perhaps we should build up to that one, John.”

The doctor yelps, flails and falls on his arse. “Sherlock! Fuck, don’t do that!” His voice is angry but his face is beaming up at wet curls and slick skin as a smile betrays his words. He can smell the git’s expensive soaps and shampoo from the floor. Had he really been staring at that box for several minutes? Sherlock offers his hand and helps John back to his feet. Laughing as he pulls on the _Monster Dong_ package still clutched in the blonde’s left hand.

“Distracted by this... beast, am I to assume you haven’t decided where to begin?” He replaces the box back in with batteries and tissue paper.

John shakes his head to refocus. He is already half hard shaking with anticipation. “Sherlock, do you really think--” determined lips silence the rest of his sentence with a chaste kiss.

“I am certain, John.” Sherlock turns back to his purchases, then spins back surveying the sitting room. He crosses to the front door securing the locks and speaks over his shoulder. “Go fetch the duvet and pillows from our bed and bring them out here. I have an idea where to begin.” John opens his mouth to protest only to realize he has no reason to and does as he is told.

Returning to the front room he finds his lover on his knees in front of the sofa, rifling through a bag. Holding a toy in his left hand, slim and tapered, a deep shade of jade. John watches Sherlock attempt to unfold instructions one handed by shaking the tightly creased pamphlet. He barely suppresses a giggle as the jostling shakes Sherlock’s towel loose from his hips. His eyes devour exposed flesh as the white terrycloth slips off his lover’s bum to puddle on the floor. The duvet and pillows in John’s grasp follow suit. In two short steps he is across the room, face buried in that plush arse. John peppers the pale flesh with kisses, licking and nipping up Sherlock’s hip and across his lower back to illicit small yelps. “John, we’re supposed to-- aah!”

John’s grip tightens as he holds Sherlock open and leans in, hot breath down the crease of his arse. He pauses but a second before his tongue mercilessly attacks the small bud of Sherlock’s opening. Licking and teasing into him. Hands massaging gentle circles into the meat of each cheek, coaxing the taller man to relax and open up further. His tongue is stiff and wet, pushing inside with the soft sounds of suction. Sherlock is keening, drowning out the wet noises coming from behind him with high pitched whines and whimpers. He has to fight every instinct in him screaming to just let go, melt and dissolve into John’s ministrations. It has been too long since he was last spoiled so thoroughly by that mouth but he finds his voice, gasping out, “John.. the.. ah.. the ex.. experiment... oh god.”

“Sod it Sherlock. I want you, like this, right now,” John grunts into his lover’s thigh, rubbing his cock across twitching calves as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “How can you possibly be worried about our sex life when you get me this hard without even trying?”

“Pl... please, John.” Sherlock’s voice cracks and it does the soldier in. Breaks him and he cedes, reluctant but willing.

“Fine, but you’re going first. I’ve been thinking about working you open since you ran off to get cleaned up and left me out here with that.. Monster,” John giggles. Not that he should feel any shame in his own hefty package, but that thing was just comical. “Even though your arse can comfortably take all of me now, you would need lots of work for that ridiculous thing.”

Sherlock flushes a new coat of red at John’s words. No matter how long they are together, the idea of his quiet little doctor fantasizing such dirty thoughts about him still sends delicious chills down his spine. “These,” Sherlock says, holding up the tapered set of emerald anal beads to his lover. He’d intended to use them on John but now that the idea of feeling them himself settles, he is overwrought with curiosity and excitement.

John eyes the toy excitedly in his hand, thumbing over the looped extraction handle as he walks back to the forgotten knot of pillows and blankets. “Sherlock, you could help.” John laughs, setting the beads down a moment to move their chairs and tables and build a proper love nest on the floor by the fire. He can hear aggravated grunts and paper shredding over his shoulder. “Instructions, John.”

“Sherlock, you can’t be serious. I think I can figure some bloody beads out.” The detective visibly pouts but drops the now torn and wrinkled pamphlet back amongst his bags. “I suppose so.”

John settles into the duvet, pats the space beside him and calls his lover over. He is still hard, mouth full of sinful flavors as he licks his lips and watches the pale flesh of his fantasies settle in next to him. “How would you.. that is.. how--”

“On your back love, I want to see your face.” Sherlock leans back into the soft space and lets his doctor take care of him. Propping his hips up with a pillow and settling between his lover’s legs, John gently nudges Sherlock’s knees further apart and coaxes his arse closer to the heat of his lap, settling each long leg up on his shoulders. The detective looks down between them, past his own aching cock to John’s teasing red pants. He watches John with wide eyes, the shorter man’s cock barely concealed by fabric, strained and staining. _I haven’t even touched him yet_ Sherlock muses.

John’s eyes dart between the spit slick hole winking at him and the bag of lubes on the sofa. Choosing Sherlock’s comfort over his own cravings, he opts for a random bottle of lubricant and works the first few beads over, coating them as he settles back into position. Sherlock watches, carefully. This is an experiment and he has to collect data. He measures the width of each bead, six in total, tapering from smallest 1.5 cm at the tip down to the largest 5cm bead just above the ring grip.

The first two latex orbs go in smoothly with no resistance, Sherlock is still slick from John’s naughty mouth. The squirming detective notes the combined moisture and how slick he feels. His face flushes remembering why. Looking down between them he watches John carefully massaging him, pushing and guiding the next one in.

“Aah J-John--,” Sherlock groans as the third bead slips past his opening and settles inside. Sensory overload from visual stimulus is too much and he closes his eyes to memorize the feeling of the stretch, the burn, the tease of smaller bead just inside him, not filling but brushing his insides. He realizes his breathing and heart rate have ratcheted and feels the concerned eyes of his doctor staring up at him. “Visual.. too much stimulus. John, I am good. Please. More.”

“Okay love,” John answers, kissing the inside of each knee in reassurance before re-applying lube and pressure to the next bead. As this one slips past his straining muscle, Sherlock shudders and moans. The pain is more intense but so is the pleasure which follows. His eyes open to see John gawking at him, admiring him. John’s strong hands massage his opening, teasing and gentle. Sherlock’s experiment halts for a moment as he takes in his lover’s response to the toy being swallowed by his arse. The doctor’s eyes are wide, fixated on his most intimate area. His cock now strained and threatening to rip itself from those bloody y-fronts. Sherlock’s own cock pulses in sympathy as he closes his eyes to store the sensation data.

The next one is a stretch, second to last bead, 4.3cm. John gives one last little push and it slips in. Sherlock stops trying to gather data and just loses himself. The pain is searing but delicious, he is feeling so full now. The smallest bead is just brushing, teasing right on the edge of where he wants it. His back arches, body willing itself to be full, to be satisfied. It is too much to focus on. Sherlock must cease every effort to document the sensations and just lose himself in them instead.

“Hnng.. John, please. Give me the last one,” Sherlock pleads. His voice cracks desperately. John applies more lube to the last bead and returns to massaging, pushing, working it inside. He bites his lip hard enough to bleed trying to hold back his own noises watching that the final bead stretch and slip inside his lover. The final nudge pushes the smallest bead deeper inside and right against Sherlock’s prostate. He yelps, arching into it. Mind blank, mouth slack and dry, pleading with just one name, one thought on repeat. “John.. John, John!” Sherlock’s cock is pulsing heavy and red, wetting his belly with precome. But he’s not quite there. He whimpers, relaxing his muscles and falling back to the duvet. His eyes reopen and find John. He is searching for something, trying to find the words to say what he needs.

“J-John I need.. I need,” he struggles to get the words out. He’s so full and trembling with the constant push against his prostate but he can’t let go. “I need you, John! You. Please.”  
“Sherlock.. love,” John is ridiculously hard but fights himself, resisting every urge to just take his lover and bin this whole bloody experiment. “I thought you wanted to.. the shopping… remember?” Sherlock stills a moment, relaxing his breathing. Thinking. Deciding.

“Remove them, slowly. I don’t think I can orgasm from the beads alone, but let us err on the side of caution.” John does as asked, carefully, wincing in sympathy at every shudder, letting out the breath he’d held in as Sherlock sinks into the duvet and sighs. John strokes a reassuring palm up his lover’s torso, kissing a trail across his hips as the shivers fade and his breathing returns to normal. Some of the momentum is gone, but he knows Sherlock, something better is coming.

“John. The large bag, on the floor. Bring it here.”

In the space of a breath John is across the room and back, bag held out to his love in excitement. “Switch places with me, lie back here.” Sherlock props a pillow beneath his patient doctor, wincing as the throbbing in his rear reminds him how badly he is still aching. He fishes in the smaller bag before finding and opening a new bottle of lube, passing it under John’s nose. “Mmm what is that... honeysuckle?” They share a smile, Sherlock’s face flushing as knowing settles into John’s features. He loves it, the smell of Sherlock’s expensive shampoo and conditioner. “So I guess all my snuffling in your curls wasn’t as unnoticed as I had hoped.”

Only answered with a wider grin, John is eased back into the pillows. His soaked pants stripped and removed, knees pushed into his chest, holding him open.  Lubed fingers rubbing and pushing into him. Desperate to work him open as quickly as possible. Before John can open his mouth to voice his questions Sherlock reveals his next toy, a double ended dildo. Well over forty cm long, it looks like a giant gummy worm, all red and wriggly in his lover’s hand as he coats one end in lube. John suppresses his desire to laugh at the imagery.

Though hurried by his own pulsing desire, Sherlock slowly works the toy into John first, fucking him with one end slowly until half of the red rubber is fully seated inside him, nudging up against his prostate. John pants, sweating and cursing as he waits. Sherlock lies back and positions himself, slowly easing down on the other end while John clenches and holds his end steady. Their knees and legs intertwine, Sherlock slowly, carefully seating the other half of the toy inside himself until arse cheeks collide.

“Look at me, John,” Sherlock whispers, hands stroking slow and reassuring up trembling thighs. “I love watching your face when you release.” Sherlock rocks his hips forward, driving the toy further inside his lover and himself. “I know you love watching me. I thought with this we could.. hnng.. share that moment more intimately.” John rolls his own hips, matching the pace and pushing, nudging back into his lover until he wrenches a moan from Sherlock, deep and animal. “Oh god, John, Right there.”

Sherlock shifts his hips, adjusting with each angle, trying to both hit his own prostate and John’s. It takes a few thrusts but he finds the correct rhythm and John is a whimpering mess, hips stuttering. They have both been teetering too close for too long. John relaxes back into the duvet, letting Sherlock take over as his hands begin working his cock, watching. Sherlock snaps, snaps and pops harder, fucking them both.

John tries to remain still but he cannot and his hips begin to buck wildly, the sound of skin slapping against skin as they both bounce from one another’s arse and balls. “J-John.. hnng..I am close. So close. Ahh!” Sherlock comes untouched, back arching to dangerous angles as he coats them both. John is right behind, one stroke later, adding to the mess between them. They collapse panting and shaking as the last waves of their orgasms pass through, the toy suddenly uncomfortable and too much. Sherlock, thankfully has the sound mind to remove it from them both, curling into his lover’s side for a shameless cuddle.

“That.. w--was… woah.” John breathes out between pants as he comes down from the high.

“Yeah.. woah,” his sweaty cuddle monster agrees before continuing. “You should cancel your appointments for the week, John. I will prepare a proper scale and we can carry out--” Sherlock stops, noting John’s face, worried he has overstepped into the realm of _a bit not good_ when John shakes himself from the haze and smiles.

“Yes, oh god yes. More of that, please.”

“It would be my pleasure, Doctor Watson.”

John laughs, pulling Sherlock closer. They will have to get up and shower, wash the duvet and sheets eventually. Eventually.


	2. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the toys which wiggle and jiggle and make you scream.

John is doing laundry. The distinct detergent scent of lavender and rain drifts through the whole flat as the diligent doctor redresses the bed and pillows with fresh linens. John shuffles about their bedroom, stretching and pacing as he cleans. Enjoying the numb ache in his joints from the previous night. He can hear his lover in the sitting room, sifting through bags and plotting their evening’s activities.

The dull snkkt of scissors cutting through plastic packaging is followed by plastic popping and the rustling paper of instructions unfolding. John smiles to himself, remembering the look of Sherlock knelt before the sofa, determinedly attempting to unfurl papers. Listening further, John can hear batteries being installed. The hollow thunk of each cylinder slipping into place. The click of battery compartments being refastened. He is surprised how much Sherlock’s deductive skills have rubbed off on him over the years. He can hear Sherlock testing vibrators on various speeds as they shake and writhe in his hand. The scene clear in his mind as if he were in the room. Smiling, the blonde runs a final pass over the duvet and heads for the shower.

John is grabbing night clothes and a towel when he hears the distinct snap and slick sound of lubricant being opened and dispensed. Curious, he stops and listens. In moments he can hear paper shuffling, metallic clanking like bells or belts and a poorly suppressed moan. No longer able to contain his curiosity, John peeks in.

“Sherlock, I’m going to just hop in the shower before--” John freezes in the hallway, mouth open, breath and heart stopping for just a moment as his eyes go wide enough to take in everything.

Damp and writhing, Sherlock kneels before his chair. His back arches as he lets slip another moan. John watches a tremble shiver up long legs falling further open over a discarded housecoat and pants. Wet curls jostle about his forehead as the determined detective looks between an instruction booklet balanced in the seat before him and the contraption between his legs. Pleased groans escape pursed lips and Sherlock is too far gone to notice John moving closer. A thick black plug is worked gingerly into his arse. Attached at the plug’s base are thick leather straps. For the moment, they hang open around each thigh, buckles jostling with each furtive thrust.

John licks his lips, mouth and throat gone too dry to form words as he settles into his chair, eyes hungrily taking in every twitch. He watches nimble fingers work the rubber plug in deeper and deeper until it is fully seated inside his lover. Once each buckle is locked, securing the plug in place, John lets loose his own sigh. Half hard and fully distracted, his hands rub the bulge in his jeans alleviating enough of the pressure to speak.

“Sherlock,” John licks his lips again, reaching out to gingerly touch his lover on the shoulder. “How does it feel?”

“Oh John, I.. ah…one moment,” Sherlock turns slowly, carefully. His cock is hard, throbbing and purple, framed by thin leather straps. “It’s not unpleasant.” He smiles and shifts again, standing and offering a hand to pull John up from his seat. “But this can wait. Shower first then we can begin with you.” Sherlock’s fingers dance across the bulge in John’s pants before spinning him around and spanking him with a playful shove towards the bathroom. “Hurry. I’ll be waiting.”

_____  
Clean and whistling, John steps from the bathroom toweling his hair. Sherlock stands by the bed, hunched over a clipboard. A pencil grasped in purple latex clad fingers, he writes notes and measures each of four different vibrators on a small TV tray beside him. His labcoat hangs open over a bare chest and legs. Goggles pushed up and tangled among his curls. “Goggles? Really confident about our selection are we?” John quirks an eyebrow as Sherlock jumps and turns.

“John! Are you ready to begin?” Sherlock beams with excitement and John cannot help but mirror his smile. He loves seeing the lanky git happy and enthusiastic. No matter how confusing the situation, his lover’s smile can erase doubt. And as the detective hops from his perch on the bed the doctor catches a peek of leather straps reminding him of what’s to come later. Pun most definitely intended.

“I am all yours tonight,” John smiles wider, crossing the room to slip hands beneath the open lab coat, taking full advantage of his position to sneak in a squeeze and and a kiss. His fingers linger along Sherlock’s rear, teasing the base of the plug inside as he bites down gently on the neck beneath his greedy mouth.

“Hnng oh god.. John. After,” Sherlock quickly kisses John before stepping out of his reach and grabbing a small device from the tray. A black plastic rectangle, barely larger than a lighter, with a keyring at one end and a single switch labeled HI-MED-LO-OFF. He places the item in John’s hand, fingers clasping together as he speaks. “Here. The plug inside me is remote controlled. This is the remote and I am giving you control.”

John’s eyes grow predatory, his cock already perking up at the thought. Sherlock is explaining the settings as John’s impatient thumb flicks over the switch, cutting him off. The result is immediate. Six feet of previously composed scientist crumples to his knees and moans. Chin snapping up he scowls, squirming against the toy rubbing inside him. “John, I said after,” Sherlock rears up and shoves his devious lover on the bed, knocking the towel and night clothes from his grasp, “you’ll have no need for these tonight.” He pries the switch from John’s hand, flicks it off and tosses it aside.

“Sherlock...” John pouts and reaches up for the switch before nimble fingers snatch and shove it under the pillow out of reach. The self-appointed leader of this little sexperiment is straddled about his hips, heat of his cock heavy and teasing on John’s thigh, highlighted with the cool tease of metal buckles and smooth leather straps. John finds himself caged in pale limbs and dark curls, devious lips and teeth working up and down his neck, marking him in delightful mock punishment.

“You can have it back after. I need to have my focus to write.” Sherlock promises with a final nip and kiss before sitting back to grab the clipboard. He writes something across the first box then grabs the smallest toy and a bottle of lube. As John watches long gloved fingers work over the blunt blue toy, slicking it up for him, he listens. “This one is a plug, similar to the one I’m currently using sans harness. It is only 15cm but has three vibration settings. Once inside, we will test each one. I need you to be vocal and honest with me, okay?”

John nods, eyes still distracted by wet fingers slowly working over the toy. He doesn’t even realize he’s been touching himself until Sherlock smacks his hands away, “None of that now, naughty boy. Now flip over, on your knees.” John does as asked, settling into a comfortable position. He is rewarded with a gentle tongue prodding along his opening as a strong latex grip pushes his knees further apart.

“Sh-Sherlock!” Two more teasing licks and Sherlock huffs a small laugh before pulling back to replace his mouth with lube slick fingers. “Just getting a little revenge. Now, on to stage one.”

Once John is prepped, Sherlock wiggles and works the plug inside. He starts on the lowest setting first. To the disappointment of them both, there is little reaction and silence. Barely a grunt. “John?”

“Sorry, umm,” John shifts, letting his face fall to the pillow and rocking his hips. “Nope not much. I can feel it but it’s like a numb tease. I’ve had tube rides more stimulating.” Sherlock laughs and marks something on the clipboard.

“Okay, next,” Sherlock switches through the remaining two speeds but neither has any significant change in John’s reaction. He grabs the clipboard, marking low numbers under the reaction columns labeled _audible, facial_ and _bodily_.

“Sorry, Sherlock. I feel... I mean, I can feel it,” John begins, looking over his shoulder. He feels a bit embarrassed, face flushed and averting his eyes like he has ruined the experiment somehow. “I mean, I can feel something it’s just, I can’t _feel_ feel it.”

“I can see why you’re the writer,” Sherlock teases and winks, knowing he can goad his lover back into a happy mood. John responds with a short laugh, his body language markedly less panic stricken as purple latex hands slip the small plug back out and set it aside.

Sherlock holds up the next toy for John’s inspection. It is a bit wider at the base but dimpled and tapered like beads. “Pink?” John raises an eyebrow at the frankly alarming shade. “It was the only color available,” Sherlock says matter-of-factly. “This one has a turn dial for speed,” he continues, easing the toy inside, “we’ll start low and work up, same as before.”

“Hnng.. o-okay,” John stammers out, squirming and twisting his hands into the sheets. “I like the umm, the texture of this one better. It feels less... stiff.” Sherlock pauses after insertion to write a note on the clipboard. _Flexibility preferred_.

As promised, Sherlock starts low and gradually increases the speed. At the highest setting, John starts to moan, rocking his hips, trying to pull the blunt toy in further. But it’s too short and not reaching where he needs it. After a few moments of concentrated efforts John gives up. “Ah, bloody, fuck!” he huffs into his sweat damp pillow and stops squirming, flushed and panting, “I can’t.. it’s not... It’s not enough, Sherlock. I’m sorry.”

“Ssh.. John. It’s okay,” Sherlock hushes his lover, slipping the toy out as he leans forward to kiss and massage his bum. “Part of any experiment is a few failed trials. Don’t worry.”

The next one is long and slim, slightly curved, and labeled as a prostate stimulator. As before, they go through the vibration settings low to high. The initial vibrations have John squirming, calf and thigh muscles tightening. The highest pulls a yelp from the squirming blond but before Sherlock can ask him to expand he is yelling. “Ahh ah.. Sher--Sherlock! Off. I don’t like it.” John is writhing beneath the vibrator, face red and contorted. Sherlock pulls it out, hands gently rubbing circles into John’s hips with his free hand. The detective glares at the offending toy in his hand before tossing it across the room into the bin with a loud thunk. “Rubbish,” he mutters, kissing a sweet apology along the seam of his lover’s worried arse. “Sorry, John.”

“It’s okay Sherlock. It wasn’t horrible just...too stiff… and a bit too much,” John huffs out, flipping over to face his boyfriend properly and rest his throbbing leg muscles. He brings his hands down from the pillow for a moment to pat Sherlock’s fingers reassuringly, ghosting across his own flagging erection before returning to halo his head and resist temptation. “Last one?”

Sherlock returns John’s easy smile and leans forward to pepper his belly with kisses. “I think you’ll like this last one,” he says, holding it up for inspection. Unlike the others, the toy is flesh colored and anatomically realistic, down to veins and wrinkles. As John stares, watching his lover coat the toy with lube, he realizes the size and girth of it is very close to Sherlock’s own. Unconsciously he licks his lips remembering just how much he loves the feel of that particular cock in his arse. “That’s why I chose it,” Sherlock says with a knowing grin and wink. John blushes and averts his eyes having been caught out.

“Still sore?” the dark haired genius asks, gently teasing the tip of the toy at John’s entrance. He is smiling but his eyes are still dulled with concern. John locks on them before speaking, “I’m okay Sherlock, I swear.” Finding the reassurance he needs in those pleading blue eyes, Sherlock slips the toy inside, gently and carefully fucking into his lover as he works the toy inside.

“Mmm ah.. that feels.. yeah,” John closes his eyes, arching into the push of the toy. “Not as good as the real thing but pretty damn close.” Sherlock slowly pulls out and pushes back in, working him open further until John is begging for more. By the time the toy is sliding into him completely, the ragged blond is moaning and panting. Sherlock finds himself leaning in closer, clipboard forgotten as he just watches John take in every inch of the vibrator over and over. “Oh god, don’t st-stop. Please Sherlock, please.”

“I haven’t even turned it on yet, John.” Sherlock’s breath is hot on his thigh, lips dipping down for a gentle kiss as he flicks the toy to its first setting. John tenses at once, eyes shooting open. “Hnng oh god, Sher-- that-- oh yes.” Nimble fingers work the toy inside him, brushing and teasing until John is begging. His cock is fully erect now, pleading for release. Hands twisted into his hair fighting every urge to provide the friction necessary.

“Pl..please Sherlock, more,” John doesn’t even know what he wants just that this isn’t enough. Sherlock flips the toy to its next setting appeasing his lover. A steady stream of moans worm between them as John arches further from the duvet, panting. Sherlock increases the speed of his wrist, flicking the toy just a fraction harder. John keens as the vibrations graze his prostate and Sherlock finds himself adjusting his own position to relieve some of the pressure on his own throbbing cock.

He stops his hands for just a moment, long enough to earn a death threat scowl from John, and shifts positions to fully straddle his lover, wrapping the twitching tanned legs of his brave doctor around his waist. “Last one, John,” Sherlock whispers, leaning in to capture every groan with a sloppy kiss as he deftly flicks the vibrating toy to its highest setting.

To say John loves the change would be underwhelming. More accurately, John becomes a drooling, moaning mess in mere seconds. He can barely form words, struggling to get past the monosyllabic pleas of a man on the edge, “Sher-- Sher-- Oh...” Sherlock finds himself watching his lover come apart, barely aware when he begins rutting against John’s hip in rhythm with the toy’s thrusts.

“Oh god, Sherlock please. Touch me!” John shouts. His hands twist in the pillowcase, knuckles dangerously white. Sherlock adjust his position quickly, lining their cocks up. John watches, chest heaving and hisses as the cool foreign feel of latex fingers grip his oversensitive erection. In moments the fingers grasping them both squeeze and pull in perfect time with the toy pushing inside him. John wants to rock up into the feel of that hand around his cock, but he needs leverage. Naughty hands disobey and slip down, grabbing Sherlock’s arse, pulling him close as hips rocket up into his lover’s grip.

“No, Hands up,” Sherlock grins wicked and removes John’s hands, gripping him by the wrist, pushed back on the pillow before returning to stroking them both faster, his other hand fucking the pulsing toy deeper into his lover. John begs, a steady litany of, “Harder harder faster.” His hands clench and unclench struggling not to touch. Fighting every urge, he slips his hand under the pillow beneath his thrashing head when suddenly his fingers brush something small and hard and _Oh_.

Sherlock catches the devious grin seconds before it happens. “John!”

The orgasm hits him suddenly as the forgotten plug in his own arse bursts to life. He comes in long bursts across John’s belly seconds before the wicked doctor finds his own release. Sherlock’s name lost on John’s lips as he bursts into a fit of giggles. Oversensitive and shaking, Sherlock switches the fleshy toy inside John off and swats at his giggling lover blindly when he refuses to follow suit. “John Hamish Watson turn this bloody thing off or so help me I will poison you in your sleep.”

“Sherlock!” John squeals as teeth clamp down around his right nipple. “Alright alright it’s off. It’s off!”

They collapse in a mess. Experiment forgotten for the moment while heart rates and breathing return to normal. After a moment of peaceful silence, John rolls to his side and pulls the goggles from Sherlock’s tangled curls. “I’d give that last one five stars or ten out of ten or, uh, whatever your scale is. Keep that one.”

“Mmm.. noted…” Sherlock answers around a yawn, waving a lazy hand towards the tray table, “I’ll write it down in the morning.”

John gets up and pads to the washroom, turning back to look at his exhausted lover. Curled into his labcoat, plug still belted in place, one latex glove half on. Sherlock shifts, adjusting his pillow before curling in tighter. John can’t help but smile at the amazing person fate has allowed him to love and be loved by in return. He shakes his head in disbelief. _How could you possibly think our sex life would grow stale?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and really the whole fic) was inspired by Ruto's sexy artwork:  
> [tumblr post](http://rutobuka2.tumblr.com/post/83572328906/nsfw-links-below-this-last-livestream-contained) for rebloging  
> and [image link](http://f.cl.ly/items/0Y361C0x2I3w193t0O1Y/lab.jpg)


	3. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and then Mofftiss said "let there be Military!kink" and it was good.  
> Monster Dong makes a gallant return.
> 
> Thus ends the great Sexperiment.
> 
> (also i'm sorry for the wee bit of angst. it just sorta of happened.)

After his first few months in Afghanistan, John learned how to sleep without sleeping. His mind always hovering just above deep rest, ever alert and ready to spring up and fight at the slightest hint of danger. In his return to civilian life, he found only nightmares when he drifted further. That was until a certain violin toting madman discovered how to lull him to a proper restful state.

Of course Sherlock had his own problems sleeping. Hypersensitive hearing coupled with a mind he couldn’t quite shut down always had the detective lingering on a the edge of wakefulness. The burden further enhanced at an early age in a home without locks and an older brother determined to torture him. It wasn’t until John started feeding him and forcing nightcaps of tea and wine that Sherlock found his peace and a proper home. And when that wouldn’t work, soul ripping orgasms were most effective.

The morning following The Great Vibrator Sexperiment, John woke sore but smiling. Rolling to his side, he nuzzled into his comatose boyfriend. “Sherlock?” he whispered softly, testing. No response. No surprise. John let his hands wander down his lover’s sides. Tracing the too bare ribs, over taut belly muscle and down his thighs, pulling him closer. His exploring fingers made their way across forgotten straps and John froze. _Oh god._ His cock was already pulsing, remembering where those strips of leather joined together. At the end of its journey, his right thumb brushed across the plug settled deep inside his lover. Sherlock’s frame shivered against him, John’s own body responding in kind.

The doctor smiled, laid a small kiss to Sherlock’s shoulder and slipped from their bed. He knew the man’s body and his habits. He had, at most, an hour and fifteen minutes until Sherlock roused from his sex-haze sleep. John padded softly to the restroom, washed and changed quickly before running downstairs. Out front he snagged a taxi, thrumming with excitement as he set his own experiment in motion.  
_____

Post-sex Sherlock stirred in the duvet, groaning and unfolding as his mind and body rebooted. Once ready to face the day, Sherlock roused his transport, limbs stretching and reaching across the entirety of his bed. His curiously empty bed. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting the glare of sunlight to accost his vision. It never came. Instead, the shades were drawn and the outline of a familiar shadow slowly swam into focus.

“John?”

“Good morning, love,” a honey sweet voice answered from the window seat. “I have made a few plans of my own while you were sleeping.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked, his interest notably piqued as he shifted among the sheets to sit up.

“Yes,” John answered, making no effort to move forward into the light. His voice dropped the sing song lilt of morning salutations and fell into a crisp cadence. “There is one item left from your shopping trip. I wish to use it on you. You will be allowed ten minutes to wash up and do whatever else needs doing in the bathroom while I make breakfast. Then we will proceed.”

Sherlock arched an eyebrow at John’s use of the word “allowed” but said nothing.

“If you are amenable, you may address me as Sir or Captain.” As the last words left his lips, John stepped forward. Sherlock’s body reacted before his mind could process what he was seeing. Eyes blown wide, his skin ratcheting between flushing heat and shivers.

John was wearing his khakis, desert camo uniform. Freshly pressed. His boots were shined, two bar and gleaming, tightly laced up his calves where the mottled trousers began. The former soldier’s uniform shirt hung loose and open, revealing a form fitting drab green standard issue tee stretched taut across his chest and tucked in at the waist. The glint of a polished brass buckle winking beneath the shifting fabric. His outer shirt was a bit scuffed and sunbleached from wear. WATSON spelled out over the right pocket, the ghost of a shadow on his left breast where medals and ribbons once lie. Frayed and worn patches still secured at each shoulder denoting his medic status and unit affiliation. His eyes trailing up the open collar, Sherlock found his breath and squeaked a tiny breathless noise. John had gone for a haircut and shave. His cheeks were flushed pink and smooth. Fresh buzzed sideburns and neatly trimmed fringe topped the delicious sight. John shifted and straightened his stance, the sun catching his dog tags and snapping Sherlock back into focus. _He’s still waiting for an answer._

But Sherlock couldn’t stop staring long enough to form words. His entire being was screeching _yes_ but his mouth had gone dry and useless. Here stood Captain John Hamish Watson, his fantasy, every secret desire since they first met, writ large and in person, ready and willing to give him everything. One word would never do to explain how badly he wanted to make this real. But two just might do. He looked up. Holding John’s gaze as he spoke. “Yes, Captain.”

There was a new flash of arousal in John’s eyes before he dropped the connection, nodding once and pointing to the glass door. “Ten minutes, Corporal.” Sherlock rounded his shoulder as chills danced up his spine at the new moniker. He hopped from the bed eager to begin. Two long strides and he reached the bathroom entrance then John watched Sherlock still, hand just above the handle, hovering. He’d heard it too. The tell-tale jingle of metal clasps. “Remove it, wash up,” John ordered. “I have... other plans for you today.” He licked his lips slowly, pointedly, finding and holding Sherlock’s searching eyes.

Sherlock tried to stand straighter, resisting the shivering impulses wracking his body at John’s words and unflinching stare, but couldn’t fight them. “Yes… Yes, sir,” he stammered out, wrenching the door open. He hurried inside, slammed the bathroom door closed behind him and collapsed against it to catch his breath. Not daring to move until he heard John’s retreating steps.

When Sherlock emerged from the steam filled room with one minute to spare, he was still shaking. His heartrate only increasing as he’d unbuckled and removed the plug. His entire body aching and sensitive under the intense spray of the hottest water he could bear. Even in his most private fantasies he had never imagined John looking at him with that cold stare. His voice sharp and commanding. Sherlock had entertained the uniform, of course. Piecing together fantasies from the few photos he could find of an earlier time, one his flatmate turned lover was reticent to discuss.

It was that very reserve which kept Sherlock tightlipped on this particular fantasy for so long. He had assumed, wrongly it seemed, that John’s PTSD and nightmares were indicative of nothing but negative associations with that part of his life. The last thing Sherlock wanted was to trigger bad memories in a moment of intimacy. So he had locked the kink away. Until today.

John was seated by the window. The TV tray cleared of vibrators and replaced with a plate of toast, jams, two mugs of tea and three coiled skeins of blue silk nylon rope atop the clipboard. Sherlock approached carefully, pausing before the empty seat. “Sir, may I sit please?” John looked up, lashes catching the morning sunlight, adding a gentle softness to his face, starkly contrasted by his reply. “No. Corporal, you may not. Get on the bed.” Sherlock eyed the toast, all too aware of his hunger but slipped out of his robe and waited. John rose beside him, a firm hand in the small of his back, guiding him to the bed. “I will feed you.”

Sherlock nodded once, and let himself be guided by those rough hewn hands. He was first rolled over, hands bound behind him, restricting but not too tight. Flipped over he was gently settled into the duvet, pillows carefully arranged behind and beneath him for support. John left the ends of the rope loose, dangling over the edge of the bed tickling his bare thigh. “First we eat.” John smiled, taking a moment to enjoy the view of his willing lover before settling across from him with breakfast.

It should feel odd. Being fed and coddled, wiped clean of crumbs and jam as a child would. But John didn’t scold or patronize. He simply fed Sherlock each triangle of toast. Kissing the loose messy bits from his chin and face. Wiping him clean with a warm flannel. Tender. So very tender. His hands never strayed. Despite Sherlock’s obvious arousal, John stayed above the waist. Slipping him sips of tea. No words exchanged but always watching, carefully aware of any sign of distress or discomfort. By the time they finished, Sherlock had been lulled into a sense of calm, his arousal replaced by peace.

“Lie back,” John said rising from the bed. Sherlock did as told, watching his Captain exit the room briefly. The din of dishes clattering in the sink. A pause in the sitting room. Then he was back. Standing in the doorway at parade rest, staring again. _He’s enjoying this_. In answer to Sherlock’s thoughts, John licked his lips and pulled the bag from behind his back. The last toy.

He crossed the room, settling the bag beside Sherlock’s clipboard from the night before. Grabbing the remaining rope he turned, eyeing the full expanse of pale limbs before him. Sherlock flushed, suddenly reminded of his nakedness. His disobedient cock twitched. Seeking attention. John noticed. A small smile playing across his face, pulling at his cheeks before he unraveled the first rope and his eyes took on a darker, predatory glint.

Sherlock was rolled to his side. The second rope secured about his waist and attached to the loose ends of the first, new knots holding his hands in place. Now he was properly restrained. A moment of helplessness stiffening his joints before John’s hands were back on him. Rubbing soothing circles until he was pliant again.

The final rope was criss crossed about his legs, securing each thigh to an ankle. Cinched to the anchoring knots of his waist and pulled until Sherlock was open, fully exposed for his lover to do with as he pleased. “Any pain, Corporal?” John asked, leaning back to take in the full view of his handiwork. Sherlock was gorgeous. The blue nylon a delicate contrast to his skin. “N-no, Sir,” he stammered out. Sherlock was shaking. Not from fear, but anticipation. He kept going back to his own fantasies but nothing had prepared him for this.

John eased him back to the pillows. Dropping small kisses along his collarbone, up his neck. Tracing the dip and pull of rope where it met hot flesh. Sherlock swallowed down a moan. His cock rising to full attention, ready and willing to serve his new commanding officer. John leaned back, pulling the clipboard from the table and making a show of hmm hmming over the previous day’s experiment. “I reviewed your notes, Corporal. They were most enlightening.”

“Is that so, Captain?” Sherlock peeked up from hooded eyes.

“Quite. I do prefer a bit of.. flexibility in the bedroom. One could argue that I prefer to keep things _wide. open_.” He winked at the last words. Dropping the clipboard to the floor with a clatter and pulling a bottle of lube from his pocket. Sherlock struggled to hold in his moan, but it slipped out as soon as the first finger slipped in.

He was still sensitive and sore from the previous evening. John easily slipped in two then three fingers. Scissoring him open further as the lanky man writhed in his bonds. “Shh.. I’ve got you. That’s it,” John spoke in a calm monotone. “We’ll need to prepare you properly.” Sherlock stilled a moment, remembering what waited for him on the table. His eyes flitted to the side and he groaned, tearing up. Cock hard and red just imagining what the larger toy would feel like.

As it turned out, the so-called _Monster Dong_ was not quite the monster promised on the box. It was hardly much larger than John’s own cock and Sherlock had taken that particular beast up his backside on more than one occasion. John raised an eyebrow as he unwrapped the toy, Sizing it up and stifling a laugh with improvised throat clearing and stiffened posture. He stroked the fleshy latex, covering it in slick lube to ease entry. Sherlock watched the show, panting and desperate to be touched again. “Sir, please?” he asked, hips hitched in anticipation.

“Patience, Corporal,” John leaned forward, peppering shaking knees with kisses as he eased the toy forward, rubbing the tip across his lover’s puckering pink hole. He slowly pushed forward, breaching the ring of muscle. John felt every shiver wrack through the taller man’s frame. Hiding his smile in a kiss at Sherlock’s hip as he withdrew and pushed back in. He hadn’t asked Sherlock to be quiet, but it was nice watching him struggle. He was trying so very hard to be a good little soldier. Swallowing back noises, hips making small abortive thrusts to pull the toy deeper. John’s heart swelled, he beamed down at his squirming love. Drinking in the tiny gasps and squeals as they escaped between parted lips. Kissing away tears of desperation as Sherlock’s frame trembled and begged beneath his hands.

He wanted more. So much more, but John was taking his time. Working the toy in slowly. Deeper and deeper on each stroke. The burn was near unbearable. Stretching and filling him. Sherlock would normally beg. On any other day, any other scenario, he would have demanded release. Even when they tried light bondage that first time, Sherlock unable to touch himself. Unable to seek out friction or release. He had begged so much then. But not now. Now he wanted to behave. Be told when to let go.

John watched the struggle play out on Sherlock’s face. Brushing the younger man’s prostate just enough that he arched from the bed. Watching him bite his lower lip, skin flushed, chest rising in desperate gasps. John pushed just a bit further. Never changing the pace. “You think I didn’t see you take those pictures, Corporal?” Leaning over his lover he licked a wet stripe up Sherlock’s weeping cock. Just a tease of a touch. “Did you touch yourself looking at them?” Kissing his way up the pale chest. Over ropes and across that gorgeous neck. “You like that, Corporal?” Settling just below wild curls to nibble on a pink ear. “You like that big hard cock filling you up?” He could hear Sherlock’s panting increase. His hips, like his breathing, no longer under control. He was close. “Y-yes Captain.”

“Come for me, now. Come for your Captain.” Sherlock’s eyes shot open as he came hard. A string of broken syllables and babbling as he struggled against his bonds, sticky and convulsing.

John held him close, slowly removing the toy. Pulling a slipknot at Sherlock’s hip he loosened the bonds, releasing his hands but keeping his lower half secured. The taller man wrapped around him immediately. Pulling John in for a desperate kiss. He was still babbling between breaths. Moaning and sighing, coming down from the high. John couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. He was too in love in that moment. “Come here,” he said, flipping their positions so that Sherlock was above him. John’s own neglected erection brushing against exposed arse in the move. Sherlock rocked above him, moaning and murmuring pleased noises.

“Sit up love,” John pulled the taller man up making sure they were eye level. “Are you mine?”

“Yes, John. I mean--”

“shh.. it’s okay now. Good. I am yours too, Sherlock,” John smiled. He slipped the tags from his neck and placed them over dark curls, to hang just above the blue ropes across the taller man’s chest. Sherlock grabbed them immediately, needing the touch to prove the moment was real. “John…” He hoped his eyes could convey what his mouth could not. John’s impatient cock twitched beneath him, interrupting. Yet another reminder. Sherlock took full advantage of his position and untied hands to unbuckle, unbutton and free him.

In seconds John was exposed. His cock painfully hard, dripping and begging for attention. Sherlock was happy to oblige. John leaned back, losing himself in the heat of that perfect mouth. Sherlock’s tongue and lips saying everything he couldn’t put into words. He was worshipful. Reverent. John slipped his hands into the mop of hair bobbing between his legs. He could feel himself getting closer.

“Sher-- oh god, stop stop, come here.” John tugged the curls in warning. Pulling the younger man up for a deep, grateful kiss. His hands roamed down Sherlock’s back as they licked and nibbled into one another’s mouths. Tasting each other. John’s grip slipped down until he grabbed two handfuls of plush arse. Lifting the lighter man he settled Sherlock’s arse back over his spit slick cock. Rubbed against him teasingly before slipping inside the oversensitive hole with a deep groan. Sherlock arched into him, pulling John deeper.

Reaching up for leverage, John grabbed the tags around his lover’s neck and pulled. The angle was too perfect. Sherlock was still so tight and hot around him. He lost all composure, hips driving hard and snapping up into him. Sherlock gripped John’s arms and held on. A steady litany of “Yes yes yes” all his mind could muster as John pounded up into him relentlessly. Sherlock’s own cock was back in full force. He let one hand slip down, stroking himself in time with John’s thrusts until they both came with a shout. John pulsing inside him, Sherlock collapsed into the downward momentum. John’s hand still tangled in the tags between them as their breathing and pulses settled.  
_____

In the afterglow, trailing kisses up John’s freshly shaved neck and cheek, and letting his hands wander over the uniform he’d waited years to touch, Sherlock couldn’t fight his curiosity any longer. Fingers trailing past worn patches and drab green buttons he touched the sunbleached outline over the left breast pocket. “John? Where are--”

“I buried them with you.”

The words hit Sherlock full force. His voice barely a whisper in reply, “John…” The man so named pulled him closer. Fingers stroking through his curls, soothing as he spoke. “I can’t lie, Sherlock. I died that day. Lost such a large part of myself when you were gone. But it is in my past... _our_ past. You are a part of me, forever. Please, don’t ever doubt that again.”

“Yes, Captain.” Sherlock hummed around the title, dripping and sweet with promise. Curling into his lover’s chest he fell back asleep, hand wrapped around the dogtags, a smile on his lips.


End file.
